Dislexseea Dyslexia Dyslexia
by Summers-Wind
Summary: "Hard!" Sam scoffed. "It sucks! No one else has to spend an hour and a half every day on spelling words and the entire afternoon reading and listening to books on tape and going to tutors."


**A/N:** So, I have Dyslexia characteristics. But I'm predominately ADHD. And I'm going into the education field. So the emotions, experiences, and such I wrote about are pretty accurate. Those three things being said, I didn't really have time to research every little detail. This is also kind of a screwed up version of a 4 and 1… I apologize! Anyway, I hope that you like it! :]

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything!

_Dislexseea (Dys-lex-i-a) (Dyslexia)_

1.

Eight-year-old Sam sat in his seat in his third grade classroom and groaned to himself. Every time he tried to look at the page, words seemed to move. When he read out loud, he would often mix up the words on the page, because that's how they appeared to him. He could get through a part of a book- but it took forever- and it was really hard to do without the help of his mom or teacher to assist him on long words or words with certain groups of letters.

"Sam," His teacher, Ms. Allison said, setting her hand on his desk. Sam looked up at his teacher. "You remember that we're having the meeting today after school, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, Ms. Allison."

"Good. So you will stay in the classroom after class and take a seat at the back table, okay?"

Sam nodded and Ms. Allison proceeded to dismiss the class for the day.

Ten minutes later, his mom walked into the classroom, still in her work clothes and sat down at the table with Sam and Ms. Allison. The vice principal of the school and a man who Sam didn't recognize walked in, moments later, and joined the group at the table.

"Sam, you know Vice Principal Fowler and this is Mr. Ron." Sam's mom said. "Mr. Ron is the learning differences coordinator at our school. Do you know what learning differences are?" she asked.

Sam shook his head "No".

"Do you remember when I took you to the university a while ago and the people there played some games with you?" Sam's mom asked him.

"Yea." The young boy looked down at his feet, as his disheveled hair fell into his eyes. He pushed his bangs away.

"Well they told us that you have something called Dyslexia... Do you know what that is? I told you what is was before I took you to the university."

"Uh huh." Sam nodded. "It's when you said the- the words move on the page and why- why reading is so hard." he explained.

"That's right." Sam's mom affirmed her son's answer.

Mr. Ron looked up from a pile of papers in a folder with Sam's name typed on a tab in red ink. Sam thought that it looked proper and official. "More specifically, Sam has "Pure" Dyslexia without Dysgraphia. Just to clarify, Dyslexia without Dysgraphia means that Sam has troubles in reading and sometimes, but not as much in fine motor skills. He struggles when he reads written words ad he struggles to pronounce them when he reads out loud. He often mixes up numbers, as well. But he does not have as much trouble in oral assignments."

Ms. Allison picked up from there. "So today, we're going to make something called an IEP, which stands for an Individualized Education Plan, in response to the earlier 504 Plan." The teacher told to the other adults. "This means that because reading and school are sometimes harder for you, we're going to make a list of your strengths and weaknesses... Do you remember what those are?" Ms. Allison looked at and spoke to Sam.

"Stuff that I'm good and bad at."

"That's right." Ms. Allison confirmed Sam's answer. "So today, we're going to make lists of your strengths and weaknesses, then we're going to make a list of things that we can do to make reading easier for you; we're going to make a list of things that you can do at home with your parents and in the classroom; and we're going to make a list of things that you'll do differently than your classmates. Okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Do you want to start, Mrs. Evans?" Mr. Ron asked.

Mrs. Evan's nodded. "Sam, I think that you're good with people and including everyone when you play."

Mr. Ron nodded. "Sam, I think that you have a very good voice. I know this because you sing the loudest during music class." He knew this, because he had observed Sam in music class a while back, to see how Sam did in social situations.

"Sam, I think that you're pretty good at math... Do you think that you are good at math?" Mr. Ron asked.

Sam looked up. "Sometimes."

"Why is that Sam?"

Sam looked up, still confused.

"Do you like math?"

Sam nodded.

"Is math easy for you?"

"Sometimes."

"Is it hard for you?"

Sam nodded. "S-sometimes the numbers get mixed up. And sometimes a-a "5" looks like an "8", or a "9" looks like a "6". But math is easier than reading."

Mr. Ron nodded. "Thank you, Sam, that was very helpful."

Vice Principal Fowler opened his mouth. "Now we're going to discuss Sam's weaknesses... Ms. Allison, do you want to start?"

The five people continued to discuss matters from there.

2.

"Ugh! Spelling is stupid!" A 12-year-old Sam tossed his workbook across the room, away from his spot at the dining room table and onto the carpet next to his dog.

Sam's mom wearily looked down at the workbook from her place at the doorway across the kitchen.

"How about we go over the words again?" Mrs. Evans suggested, stepping over the dog, and walking into the room. She set a bowl of carrots and ranch down next to Sam.

Sam picked up a carrot. "But we already did that!" he paused. "Yesterday and the day before and the day before and even Sunday! Even on a weekend!"

"I know it's hard, Sweetie." Mrs. Evans rested her hand on Sam's back.

"Hard?" Sam scoffed. "It sucks! No one else has to spend an hour and a half every day on spelling words and the entire afternoon reading and listening to books on tape and going to tutors."

"I know, Sweetie, but look at your work. You can clearly see how much you've progressed since you were six or even since you started working with Mr. Ron in school."

Mrs. Evans walked across the room and picked up Sam's workbook. She set it back down in front of her son.

"Now, tell me what is really bothering you."

Sam glared down at his paper. "Thespellingbee." he mumbled.

"What?"

"The spelling bee!" Sam exclaimed.

Mrs. Evans nodded. "You don't want to look stupid?" she asked, now fully understanding. "You're not stupid, Sammy. You have a 120 IQ... that is hardly stupid. And you work harder than any of the kids in your class."

"I know..." Sam sighed. "But Mrs. Thompson thinks I'm lazy and I don't try enough even though I'm working really hard with my tutor on all of my English essays! And I feel so stupid when I get a 'C' and Billy, who did his essay the night before, got an 'A'!" the boy frowned.

"Hey, look at me." Mrs. Evans ordered.

Sam looked up, and his mom put her two fingers under his chin. She gently pushed his head up, and their eyes made contact.

"You put in 100 times more effort than Billy does. And you have progressed a 100 times more than Billy has. You should be proud of yourself for your accomplishments., and you should be proud of all of the effort that you put in."

Sam sighed and looked at his mom. "I guess."

"You guess?" Mrs. Evan's raised an eyebrow, now playful. "I know." she paused. "Now, Mr. Ron recommended 'pass and catch' with a basketball as we spell out works and alternate letters. How about we go do that?"

Sam shrugged. "That sounds fun, I guess."

The boy cracked a smile. He liked basketball.

3.

Sam frowned at the letter in his hands.

He was annoyed. Who was the SAT Board to say that he wouldn't get extended time on the SAT or ACT tests? He always used the extra time given to him by his teachers. He clearly had 1 and 1/2 time on tests (if his classmates got an hour on a test, he would get an hour and a half), and his learning differences documentation clearly said that he did. He spent hours nightly on homework and he spent three hours every week with his tutor. It was hard managing his time and his friends and being a 'normal' high school student, all at the same time.

"I'm taking my SAT at Jefferson in 215." Artie told the Glee Club, as the kids wasted away time before Glee club practice started, one October afternoon.

"I'm taking mine at Jefferson, but in 213." Tina frowned, disappointed that she would not be in the same room as her boyfriend..

"At least we'll be next to each other." Artie supplemented.

"I know." Tina pecked Artie on the lips.

"I'm taking mine at Washington." Mercedes told the group.

"Me too." Quinn agreed.

"Ohh, what room?" Kurt asked. "Maybe we'll have it together?"

"219." Mercedes responded.

Kurt frowned. "That fails."

"318." Quinn responded.

"Oh, you are totally going to be my SAT partner, Quinn!" Kurt linked his arm through Quinn's.

"Yo, Evans, where are you taking your SAT?" Puck called from across the room.

"I dunno yet. Hopefully here." Sam said, hoping that a repeal to the SAT board would grant him the ability to get extended time or a testing room to himself. All of the kids with SAT accommodations took their tests at McKinley.

"I'm taking mine here, too!" Brittany exclaimed and linked her arm with Sam's. "We can be buddies, too!"

4.

Sam glanced down at his football playbook binder one more time and sighed. His hair, still wet from his post- practice shower, dripped onto the pages, and blotted the already blurring letters. He pulled his new McKinley High hoodie over his head, trying to break his eyes, and see if things would look clearer in 10 seconds, even though he new that they wouldn't. A brief "mind break" wouldn't couldn't hurt, though.

"You okay, Evans?" Coach Beiste walked up to the star quarterback.

"Just having some issues with these plays, Coach." Sam replied honestly. Over the years, he had come to accept his Dyslexia, and he discovered that being honest about it, made life a lot easier.

"Anything specific?"

"Well, I'm dyslexic, you know that."

Coach Beiste nodded.

"Well, why don't you come to my office, and I'll explain it to ya with pop cans, instead of on paper."

"Yo, Evans!" Puck called, sticking his head into the locker room. You coming?" Sam looked down at his playbook and back up at Coach Beiste.

"I expect to see you in my office on Monday during study period. I can't have my quarter back screwing up plays." Coach Beiste told the football player.

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Coach."

5.

Sam was eleven and his sixth grade class was putting on _The Wizard of Oz_. He had spent days searching for the perfect song to sing. He'd settled on _Brown Eyed Girl_ and stolen the hearts of all of the girls in his class who had heard him audition in the school auditorium.

The final list had just been put up and fifty kids were all trying to crowd around two pieces of paper.

"I got Glinda!" A little, peppy blonde squeaked.

"I got the Wicked Witch!" a brunette exclaimed, and high-fived her friend, the blonde.

The two girls annoyed Sam some, but not enough to be a jerk to them. He couldn't stand truly being mean to anyone.

"I got ToTo!" A small, curly haired second grader grinned.

"I got the Tin Man!" a boy recognized from his music class exclaimed. Sam remembered him being loud and a little bit arrogant, but in time, he would become one of Sam's good friends. All of the theatre kids would.

"I got the lion!" a big- boned, teddy bear boomed.

"Who got Dorothy?" One girl screamed, her voice anxious.

"Yeah, and who got the Scarecrow?" A male voice, just as anxious, screamed through the crowd.

"Um..." An eighth grade girl held up the list. "Dorothy will be played by... Eliza Wilkinson and the Scarecrow willed be played by... Sam Evans."

The initial words took Sam by surprise, but he smiled, extremely proud of himself. He had spent hours trying to memorize the words to his audition song- and his knowledge of music reading was rather limited.

Studying his lines for an entire show would be a challenge and it would be one more thing he barely had time for, but it was spring and football wasn't happening again until the fall.

A tall girl, with shoulder length golden curls in jeans, a bright green sweater, and white Keds turned towards him. "You're Sammy, right?" she asked, her blue orbs wide.

Sam nodded. "Yepp!"

"You're in my LAP class." The girl said the words like she was positive they were true. Sam's brain calculated that "LAP" class was the "Learning Assistance Program" and it was taken as a second elective. "Wanna study with me during class?"

Sam nodded and smiled. "That would be awesome."

It was Friday and Sam sat in a beanbag chair in LAP class with his book, in the corner of the classroom. He was slowly read about Narnia and whispered the words to himself, as he read. He found reading out loud helpful, even though he couldn't always pronounce everything, the words got mixed up less.

"Hiya!" An excited voice exclaimed. Sam looked up to see Eliza grinning, lime and turquoise braces bands grinning at him, her eyes wide.

"Hi!" he smiled.

"Do you wanna go practice with me next door?" she asked, holding up _The Wizard of Oz_ scorebook.

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Eliza grabbed Sam's hand and he noted how her hand was soft and warm.

"Ms. Lilly, Sammy and I are going next door to practice for theatre class. You said that we could practice during this class, but only on Fridays. Because we're both taking theatre, even if it's during different periods. But we're both in the show, so it's kind of a class. AND it's Friday!" Eliza rambled to the teacher. "AND I took my 2PM Adderall and all my other homework is... _kind of _finished."

"Okay, try to be back in 45 minutes." the teacher nodded. "But you have to do more work on Monday," the teacher gave a stern look to Eliza.

Eliza nodded. "_I know_."

Eliza pulled Sam into the music room and stopped at the piano bench.

"Sit." she instructed. Sam sat next to Eliza on the piano bench.

"You're dyslexic, right?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Yepp! And ADHD! AND anxiety!" Eliza grinned. Sam admired how open she was about it, and wondered if it bugged her when people asked why she was so energetic all the time, or why she did her own thing. Middle school kids were cruel; he knew that much. He decided not to ask. In the future, he would learn that Eliza's parents worked extremely hard to make their daughter appear 'normal', even though she had good social skills.

"Well, how do you, um, make sure that the notes don't get mixed up?"

"I listen to the music and the notes, then I look at them. I see which ones that I always see as scrambled and I learn them that way. Sometimes I unscramble them. Do you want my CD to listen to?" Eliza asked.

"Yeah, thanks." Sam smiled sheepishly.

In the following weeks, Sam would learn that he had an impeccable ear and that he didn't really need sheet music much, because he could copy the notes that he heard.

Sometimes he would learn a song by playing it on the piano, and then mimicking it, like Eliza showed him. Sometimes, he would learn it by listening to it. Other times, he would learn it by reading the music, then playing it (badly) on the piano, because his fingers didn't get as mixed up as his mind.

In music, things made sense to Sam.

6.

In the autumn, Sam would pass the winning touchdown in his first football game of his eighth grade year. He would become a sought- after recruit for high school football. And in the years following, his life would be governed by football. An invitation to join a Glee Club, by one Finn Hudson, would remind him of the first time that something that challenged him so much, would also come so _naturally_.


End file.
